Post by James on Jul 12, 2008 15:47:16 GMT -5
(Close enough. Let's get this started.)
You are not your character, You!
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Pseudonym: James
Age: 15 years.
Experience: 1 ½ years in total, though I’ve been on and off.
How you found us: Where do you think?
Password: Wings.
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Characters are fun
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Name: Fiona Lianna.
Gender: Female.
Age: Old enough.
Race: Risen - Seraphim.
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Character, yay
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Appearance:
Fiona's dark chocolate hair is like a curly mop on her head. Her long hair falls from her head until it rests around the shoulder blade area, cascading in slight curls on the way down. Fiona always tries to make up her hair like that every day, and most of the time, she's satisfied with it. If you ever see her constantly playing and tugging on her hair, though, it's a sign that she's not happy with the result of her hair, and that she's also angry that she's got to deal with it for the entire day, as she often finds herself lacking time to return to her living space to attempt to re-do her hair.
Fiona's eyes don't just see; they express. Her eyes make her expression really evident. Stare at her icy blue eyes from a distance, and you'll guess that they're just eyes with an unusual character. Come closer, though, and you'll see what's behind the girl with icy eyes. From a closer view, you'll feel her emotions radiate from those two eyes. Whether she's feeling joy, sorrow, happiness, or any other emotion, her eyes alone will express it. It's like not only is Fiona watching you, but her eyes themselves are, too.
Fiona looks like a pixie. Standing at a mere 4’10 feet and weighing in at 95 lbs, her two wings are nearly bigger than her body. (Though, with her little size comes a big punch =D) Her body is a healthy combination of muscle, fat, bones, organs, and marble skin. Bones stick slightly through several parts of her body. Her cheeks are hollowed out, as if someone sucked much out of those areas, and kept the skin in. Both of her lips are the only parts of her skin not flushed marble - there’s a faint coloring of pink in her chappers. She has a few scars scattered around her body, most commonly on her neck and arms, that were caused by a bit roughhousing during her time that she lingered in Earth disguised as a human.
On Earth, Fiona will wear anything that's light-colored for her top, and prefers to wear some type of jeans on the bottom half of her body, though, she’ll really wear anything casual. Of course, almost every shirt she has two holes by the ribcage, in case her wings accidentally pop out.
Personality:
Don't jump to the conclusion that just because she rarely talks to strangers, she's a quiet girl, or that she has autism. When people begin to give her a chance, though, they'll see her true colors. Fiona is, as expected from an angel, a nice girl, but she also balances herself, too. Generous enough to give gifts to others when they request them, selfish enough to keep much needed things to herself. Enough of a team worker to let others take charge before her, but stubborn enough to follow her instincts and maintain her confidence. Kind enough, to greet friends and allies with a smile or at least a nod, aggressive and bold enough to show why she deserves her position. And so on.
When she's not around friends, her personality changes. She will almost never talk to anyone she is either not familiar of or is not companions with, unless they have to communicate during missions. Even then, though, she rarely speaks in even complete sentences - nothing more than five words. Her gestures will become conservative, as opposed to occasional vigorous and comical gestures around friends. Her face will phase into its neutral state, where her face expresses neither pessimism nor optimism. Her eyes, though, will still radiate her emotions. She's still the person who's not snobbish enough to refuse requests that involve her job, but it's as if a part of herself vanishes when she’s around no friends. Or, maybe it's that she evolves into an alter-ego around friends.
Fiona has a hobby of traveling in Earth. She loves several aspects of the planet, and will spend an entire day there. She has a soft spot for beaches, let the tides wash up shores and splash her feet, relax in the cloudlike beds of sands - when the winds don’t blow sand into her eyes, anyway. There are other minor things that she likes in Earth, like the TV shows she sees through a shop’s window, “light” music, and the “cuddly” things, mainly teddy bears. She hates other aspects of it, though, such as the loud noises and the usual dirty air lingering in the streets.
Fiona’s a fierce competitor in many things she does, and, unless she’s feeling cocky at the time, will channel all her focus into a certain thing when doing something. She loves winning, but hates losing. As in, she’ll sometimes throw a small fit if she loses. Despite having troubles holding herself back from laughter when someone else gets embarrassed, she’ll get angry if someone embarrasses her.
Fiona has a small habit of making mistakes that should not be missed. When she attempts to do something that has become second nature to her, she may accidentally do one thing instead of another. For example, she'll push "8" instead of "9" on a keypad, and as a result she can't get in a door. When she really focuses, she never makes these mistakes; it's when she's feeling careless that it shows.
Familiar: “No.”
Weapon of Preference: She only shows it when it’s needed, but when she does, a halberd will appear in her hand. Three and a half foot pole, foot long blade. (Or, for a better idea, and to support laziness: photobucket.com/image/halberd/BlueSoyMilk/halberd.jpg?o=7)
Job:
Well, she’s a fighter. She can lead parties if she’s needed to. (-_- I don’t know… admins help me)
Rp sample
Roleplay Sample: (I’m tired. Bear with it.)
NEW YORK CITY. (I know the RP takes place somewhere else.)
Everyone is looking at me
The sea of humans swarmed around her, the hybrid stench of smoke and stench, the dirty atmosphere ridden with deafening blasts of horns and mouths chattering gossip into miniature devices…
I’m running around in circles
All that she feared she’d confront at same time during her time on Earth, she faced now. Memories of the beach, visions of law shows, smells of salt burning her tongue, all of it was now not a reality, but just a memory. What she faced now was no longer a fear, however, because the reality instead…
Plagued with a quiet desperation’s building higher
Screaming inside just to leave a borderline nightmare. Pleading to no one to find the way out. Left turn, right turn, left turn, left turn, right turn, anywhere turn, it’d didn’t matter. What would still hug her vision with consistency was the pack of society swarmed in every direction she faced. Look up, then. Hope for a time check to flash between the giant slide show hanging over everybody’s heads. 2:11 PM. She couldn’t bear being in her current area at 2:12 PM. Look farther up the sky. Sky blue painting with white cotton balls dabbed in between. Like a swimming pool, completely open to dive into its azures. Temptation rising, shoulder blades aching…
No. Can’t give myself away… She could dive into the air - if she was willing to trade back her wings to Him. Scratch that plan, throw it to the fire. Her mind began to work for another plan. Enter a building? Lots of people there, as well. Go deep into the alleyway? Maybe, if they weren’t jammed with black bags of trash. There has to be some escape out of this hole.
“Taxi!” The voice of a male seemed to boom separately from the remainder of society. She turned, saw a man in work clothes in the middle of the crowd. His hand stuck out from his body and made an odd shape, kind of like playing thumb-war with himself. A yellow vehicle not too long after swerved through the relentless traffic, halted right aside to the man. The man got in the back, and the car began to swerve and dodge through traffic again.
Other people were doing it too - they made thumb war signs, watched a car park aside them, get in, swerve away. Hmm…
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“Taxi!” This time, the angel made the call. She attempted to mold her hand into a thumbs-up position, but it looked rather like she was holding an invisible soda can. Maintaining the peculiar shaped signal, her eyes looked on to the street infested with vehicles of the rainbow. Pessimistic colors passed by her eyes. Out of the sea of vehicles, there wasn’t a yellow colored car in sight.
Two minutes. Five minutes. Not a single yellow car swerved down the street and offered her a seat. Ridiculous. All that was in front of her where depressed cars riding down the street. None of them came to stop by her, none of them offered a ride, none of them had a yellow finish that said “taxi” on it…
A car pulled up to the curb, only a few feet from her. It couldn’t have been a taxi; it had a dark green finish. But there was a taxi sign sitting on the roof of the car… Was this a taxi, or was this a phony? Her mind was dazzled with confusion.
“You ridin’ in that taxi, ma’am?”
A voice originating behind her spoke. Mish danced a half-circle - now she faced a female standing in front of the sea of society. She had cocoa skin and had a lanky body frame - the angel had to look far up to see her in the eye.
The angel responded. “Taxi?” Her head momentarily glanced at the driver in the vehicle; only a silhouette she could make out behind the darkened windows. “It’s green, though…”
Lanky girl’s eyebrows arched. It was evident at that point to the angel that saying “It’s green, though” to anyone would lose a person’s chances of showing a satisfactory first impression. The angel felt her cheeks increase in heat. If her heart could beat, it would have raced at breakneck speed. “I mean, I’m sorry…” She spun back to the car. Hopefully, the driver wouldn’t force her to pay extra - she only had ten dollars resting in her back pocket. She yanked on the handle, and dove into the seat.
She dove into a world of relief as she closed the door. The deafening sounds of New York softened into a faint muffle. The wall of heat self-channeled itself into a calm breeze radiating from the air conditioner. The smell of ash still filled the air, but it least the environment was a step up from her previous location.
The figure’s face became clear, as he turned to face the angel. His skin complexion was tanned, though from his body frame, it seemed like he rarely stepped outside his taxi. His eyes were beady and looked offset compared to the massive size of his nose. He had a scruffy beard surrounding his pale lips - his beard seemed unshaven for weeks. A cigarette hung from his lips - probably the cause for the smell.
“What’s yo’ name, girl? Where you travelin’ at?” His Brooklyn accent was thick and obvious. His eyes darted up and down the girl. He saw her simplicity of her choice of clothes - a white T-shirt a size too big, dark blue cargo pants, checkered shoes.
Her expression remained casual. “Fiona. The park.” The driver nodded, and swerved away into the sea of vehicles.